Roberto and Giselle are cousins of some sort. Only Aunt Loretta can sort it out. They own a restaurant, named Deliza, on the hillside above the family farm. Everyday they watch over the family farm, from their window, as they cook Italian food.

Roberto would like to purchase the farm, but the Milan businessman who owns it won’t sell.

There is no shortage of entertainment at any Italian gathering. However, since we were the reason for this assemblage we felt obligated to do something special. Doug brought out his guitar and sang songs from West Virginia, and his Garagecow Ensemble CD. Suddenly he was an international star.

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The problem was that the audience didn’t look like the sort who bought CD’s.

I stepped out from the party-reunion into the quiet night. There was a soft drizzle falling as I walked across the street and looked down the hill toward the family farm. The house had gone dark. Cosenza was glowing in the distance. Dogs barked, crickets chirped, as the family party continued.

The family farm at night with the lights of Cosenza

The farm was the only place with nothing there. There was no light, no noise, just the vibrations from the past which were even stronger now that it was dark.

The new life was up on the hill behind me. The old life was down there. That place, which affected me so strongly, will affect my children less so, and their children even less than that. This is nothing new. It is not sad. It is just what happens as new life buries the old.

At my grandmother’s funeral, my father turned to me and said, “Well, that’s the last of the old people. I guess I’m next.” Before I had a chance to comfort him, he added, “And that means that you’re after me.” Thanks dad. Maybe I should get back to the party.

With the intensity of the past few days at the farm, it was time for a road trip. Roberto offered to drive us through the Calabrian county side the next day.

*I understood the part that, on a clear day, from the top of this hill, overlooking the ocean, you could see Africa. I didn’t pick up on the part about the giant Jesus. When I caught up with the uncles, I thought that they were searching for a hole in the fog. When one of them said “I can’t find Jesus, I know he is here somewhere,” I started to worry. Then I looked up.

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Next, please …

Continue on to the final chapter,“Which Way is Home?”by clicking on the keyhole to the left.*